Spring
The
diaphanous lives of plant
and tree,
their desires,
their pleasures,
mysteries.
Rose, lilac,
magnolia, cherry;
they mingle
with one another
their cocktails
of pollen,
fibers and
molecules of sex,
genitalia and
fragrance.
Of course it’s
all a dance,
a language; the
wind
a carriage to
give them
speech. Attempt
to reach out,
touch
one another,
entangle
their branches
and bodies
as if they
could lift
themselves and
be free.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment